


All the Little Background Noises

by LadySilver



Category: The Tomorrow People (1973)
Genre: Aliens, Gen, Politics, Post-Series, Rarewomen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/LadySilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a paradox of governments everywhere, Federation Ambassadors are sent off-world to live and work, while still speaking for their people back home. When Ambassador Elizabeth receives some world-changing news, she has to decide where she fits in and whom she speaks for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Little Background Noises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [malinaldarose (coralysendria)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/gifts).



> Thanks to tptigger for the beta and for catching all my canon goofs. Any remaining mistakes are, as always, mine.
> 
> Some information in this story was taken from the books _Three in Three_ and _Four Into Three_ by Roger Price. Everything else is made up.
> 
> Coralysendria-
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story. Thank you for giving me the chance to envision Elizabeth's future. Happy rarewomen!

The Galactic Trig prided itself on being able to fulfill any need that one of its members could have. Not, Elizabeth reflected with a moment of uncharacteristic bitterness, that they gave her much chance to take advantage of that. The Appropriations and Requests committee was _finally_ getting ready to make a recommendation about the feasibility of rehabilitating two post-apocalyptic planets discovered in a former Thargon-occupied solar system, and the Recovery and Restoration Committee was always swamped with requests with former Kulthan colonies seeking aid. Elizabeth had just returned from a two week surveillance tour on one outpost and was due to be sent out again just as soon as the Chairbeing approved the request. She barely returned from one assignment and it was time for the next.

“Now, that looks like the expression of someone who could use a holiday.”

The interrupting voice jerked Elizabeth's attention away from the cup in which she'd been idly swirling the tea infuser. She looked up in confusion, both from the fact of someone talking to her now and the sentiment they had expressed. Slowly, she felt a smile tug at her lips. The person in front of her was someone she hadn't seen in months? Years? Time had a way of flying when one was chasing deadlines and trying to keep up with appointments. The woman's blonde hair had given way to silver, and the deepened lines on her cheeks and forehead Elizabeth remembered as smooth, suggested that more time had passed than she thought.

“Carol!” She stood, holding out her hands for her old friend and fellow Earthling to grasp in greeting.

“Hello, Elizabeth.” Carol's hands felt frail in Elizabeth's, the skin thin and dry, though her grip was still strong. “I didn't expect you to be on-board or I would have called ahead. Do you mind if I join you?”

“Please.” Elizabeth telekinetically pulled a chair over from a nearby table and positioned it opposite hers. The lounge had only a handful of other beings using it at the moment, so there was no need for the formality that even something as simple as borrowing a chair could necessitate. “I'm afraid I don't have very long to chat; I have another meeting coming up in about half an hour.”

“That's OK,” Carol replied. Her brow creased for a second as she converted Elizabeth's time-measurement into units she was more familiar with, her thoughts unshielded just enough to give away what she was doing. How odd it was that she had given herself over so completely to her adopted planet that even time units needed translating, Elizabeth thought to herself. “I have other obligations here, too. Being able to catch up with an old friend is just a bonus, no matter how long we get.” She sat down, the folds of her pink and gold tunic she wore falling delicately into place. 

“So, what brings you to the Trig? You're not thinking of returning to the Ambassador corps, are you?”

Carol's laugh chimed brightly through the lounge. A few heads and antennae turned their way for a moment. Though nearly everyone on board the Trig was telepathic, most beings chose to use their non-telepathic communicative abilities when translation issues weren't a problem, but no species had ever mastered the art of not being more interested in the conversation next to them than their own. “Oh no,” she assured. “I had some messages to pass on from the Adonisian Prime Minister, and then it's right back home to begin working on the next round of elections. Narscissa talked me into running for the Extra-planetary Trade Office again.” 

“Again?” Elizabeth asked, wracking her brain for whether she knew that Carol had moved into planetary politics. If she'd known it, the detail was now buried under information about the various Federation member-races and which were inclined to vote in her favor or not. To cover her discomfort, she changed the subject. “I'm surprised that the Adonisians are allowing you to hold a governmental position.”

Carol's head tipped. “Why?”

“Because you're an alien. Most planets still have strong social mores about restricting political roles to planetary natives.”

Carol laughed again, though not as brightly. “I've lived on Adonisia for most of my life; I'm married to a native and our children are citizens who also live on on-world. I may not have been born on the planet, but I'm hardly an alien.”

Elizabeth glanced around the lounge while she mulled over what Carol had said. Most of the beings in this lounge looked like the two of them—the facilities in this part of the Trig were calibrated for their atmospheric, gravitational, and sensory needs—yet they represented dozens of different worlds. They also represented a single Federation, and though what Carol said was unusual, it wasn't unprecedented. “No, I suppose you're right,” she conceded. “Spend enough time and plant enough roots someplace and it doesn't matter where you're from.”

Carol patted her hand in understanding. “Enough about me. I'd ask what you've been up to, but your activities are well known. You're so indispensable around here that I'm surprised no one has asked you to run for Chairbeing.”

Elizabeth offered a tired smile. “I can't imagine when I'd find the time.” She eyed the cup of tea in front of her; though still too hot to drink, she wasn't going to let it go to waste. Lifting the cup carefully so as not to spill, she took a sip, and grimaced.

“Surely they can spare you for ten minutes for a tea break,” Carol commented, sounding appalled about such a minor incivility as only Carol could.

“Probably not.” The old familiarity of Carol's response surprisingly brightened Elizabeth's mood. They'd worked together as Ambassadors from Earth for years before Carol had married Narcissica and had chosen to take her political leanings planet-side again. “But, it's not the temperature. I think it's the water. Something about the tea here has never tasted right to me. The water from the Thames always had that--”

Carol shuddered and shook her head. “The Thames! I don't even want to think about what was in the water there. I never knew how good water could be until I stopped drinking that swill. You really should try the water from the Forulla springs outside the Adonisian capitol. It's renowned for its restorative qualities.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, as diplomatically as possible. Every planet she'd ever been to had some water source about which the same claim was made. Not that she didn't appreciate Carol's thoughtfulness. “Maybe next time you visit the Trig, you'll bring me some.”

“I'll make sure of it! It'll give me an excuse to come back sooner rather than later.”

“I just hope that I'm here when you do. The Council has me spending more time off the Trig than on it these days. Those long-range teleports never seem to get easier.”

“They are exhausting,” Carol agreed. “I don't believe the human body is meant to jaunt hundreds of lightyears in one go. That's why I prefer to stay where I can do the math for my jaunting myself. Where does the Council send you? To Earth?”

Elizabeth shook her head and smoothed a wrinkle out the formal brown robe she wore. She briefly toyed with the idea of showing up to the meeting without the robe on. The Trig loved its rules and procedures, so the outrage on her committee co-members' faces might make the risk worth it. Then again, it would probably also end with the meeting taking three times as long. “No. Everywhere but, I think. They all start to blur together after awhile.”

Carol leaned forward, concern marring her features. “How long has it been since you've been back?”

“Well, I was--” For the second time, Elizabeth found herself unable to place an answer in time. She'd made the occasional jaunt to Earth for Ambassadorial duties, and she'd been back when both John and Stephen were married. “Is Thatcher still Prime Minister?” she asked, not entirely joking. She could rattle off the names of the last dozen Chairbeings, and she was reasonably certain that she could still list the order in which various planets had entered the Federation. The similar details of Earth politics escaped her.

“The work you're doing here is important, but when was the last time you reminded yourself what it's all for?”

Elizabeth took another careful sip of her tea, let out a long sigh through her nose. Steam curled up warm and wet onto her cheeks. “I know what it's for,” she answered, thinking of all the ravaged planets and fallen civilizations she'd helped bring hope to. So many people across the galaxies were better off because of the Trig, even if it did move with geologic slowness in making its decisions and providing that help.

Carol studied her for a long moment, then settled back again as if their conversation hadn't just crossed into deep-confessional territory. “I think maybe I could use a tea, as well.” She'd hardly thought the request before a server brought the beverage over. “I have a grandchild on the way. Did I mention that?”

* * *

The meeting was gearing up to take just as long as Elizabeth had feared—two of the other members wouldn't stop bickering over amendments to a third member's proposal—when she was granted an unexpected reprieve in the form of a new breakout. The summons for her to come to the Intake Room shocked even the Chair, forcing it to have to refer to the rules to figure out how to dismiss her. Rather than waiting, Elizabeth offered a polite bow and quick apology and teleported away.

She appeared in the antechamber, a big room which housed the life-support controls for the smaller waiting rooms that encircled it like petals on a flower. Lights blinked and machines whirred and clanked, filling the space with visual and auditory reminders of all the variables that needed monitoring. On catching sight of her, the attendant on duty scuttled over. It gestured to the Intake room she was needed in and handed over the dossier on the new arrival with no fanfare. Then, with a wave of sympathetic pride, it swiveled its antenna toward her and rumbled, “Congratulations!” before scurrying away.

Elizabeth frowned, unsure what to make of that. Breakouts from Earth were hardly new or noteworthy, and the one waiting for her didn't qualify anyway. Pushing the thought away, she scanned the dossier, absorbing every detail that looked pertinent. While the information was perfunctory, it was enough to confirm that the Galactic Federation might soon be welcoming a new member-species.

She bounded a little on entering the intake room; its gravity was lighter than she was used to. Dull red light and a scent that reminded her of burned cinnamon filled the space—details chosen because they'd be comforting to the newly arrived.

One look told her why _she_ had been the one brought down for orientation. The breakout was humanoid, built on roughly the same dimensions that Elizabeth was, though with more delicate bones that looked like they'd snap in Earth gravity. Her skin was dark like Elizabeth's and her black hair was cut short to her head. The Trig made a policy of presenting new breakouts with as familiar a face as they could find in their ranks, for all that it never fooled anyone. The breakout sat curled in on herself on the platform-bed and she glanced up when Elizabeth entered. No matter how old she was, no one had ever looked so young or so frightened to Elizabeth's eyes.

“Hello,” Elizabeth greeted, hands out to show them empty. She took a seat in the chair opposite the bed, put there for just this purpose, and continued to project an aura of calm.

“Where am I?” the breakout asked, voice quivering. “How did I get here?”

Though their mutual telepathy bridged the translation gap, the Trig computer hummed for a moment, reconciling the accent and syntax with its records of the languages spoken on the breakout's home planet. Into Elizabeth's mind, the computer whispered, “Northern hemisphere, probably originating from the area east of the largest continent's inland sea. The countries on this continent have been at war for the better part of 200 years by your reckoning.” Elizabeth gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, then set out to answer the girl's questions as best as she could. They were always the same questions; only the willingness of the listener to accept the answers changed.

The breakout identified herself as Omka and confirmed that she was still a youth. She had only just come into her powers, still didn't know that she was telepathic in addition to being telekinetic and a teleporter. She hadn't yet discovered the Prime Barrier. She was a solider, like everyone on her world, and being given new orders to follow without question was a matter of course.

Omka absorbed the explanations Elizabeth offered, nodding slowly with each new piece of information. Then she stared at the wall for a long time, all the details whirling around in her head. "I have one more question," Omka finally said. “If you have all these powers and advanced technology, that means you can fix me. Can you fix me?” She leaned forward, her expression imploring.

Elizabeth shifted in her seat. In all the years of meeting breakouts, no one had ever asked this. “Fix you? What do you mean?”

“Can you turn me back into a normal person?”

Elizabeth frowned. Removing telepathic powers was easy enough; a number of devices existed that did everything from temporarily block them to strip them completely, and that didn't even take into account those things that existed in nature such as Barumin and the Medusa. But, that wasn't the point. Elizabeth shook her head, choosing to leave the question unanswered rather than lie. “You are a normal person. Or, you will be. You are the first of your kind; you won't be the last.”

“I can't be different! Differences can't be trusted, and a state can only be strong if all its members can be trusted.” Omka stated the last with the air of a person repeating propaganda that she'd internalized as truth. “Fix me. Erase my mind. Send me back normal.”

“What will happen if we don't?”

Omka tipped her head and looked at Elizabeth as if the answer should be obvious. “They'll kill me. It's treason. How can my nation expect to win without unity among its soldiers? It's basic strategy.”

It was barbaric, Elizabeth wanted to say. The Prime Barrier evolved in the telepathic races for a reason, and this reactionary fear to the unknown was a big part of why. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. For all that she routinely visited planets who were still learning how to be at peace, she took for granted that everyone knew peace was possible. 

“No one's going to kill you,” she promised. “You'll stay here until you learn how to use your powers. The Galactic Federation can be myopic about some things--” Hidebound, she thought to herself. That accusation had been leveled against them more than once, and she struggled with the bureaucracy herself. Though, three decades of practice, combined with the personality and aptitude that had originally drawn her to teaching, meant that she knew the system as well as anyone-- “but they know not to send newly emergent telepaths back without support. It's policy.” For a good reason, she thought, glad for once to have a policy worth falling back on.

“But I can't!” Omka's voice rose, heading toward a shrill panic. “I can't be different. You don't understand!” Fear was pouring off her, prickling at Elizabeth's skin and sending shivers up and down her spine.

She remembered when Stephen had first told her that he wasn't talking to himself, how it had felt as if all her assumptions about the world and her place in it vanished like the stage illusion they were. Then she'd teleported for the first time, found herself trapped in hyperspace, and discovered that it wasn't just her assumptions about the _world_ that were wrong.

“I do understand.“ Elizabeth kept her voice calm and even. “I was one of the first of my kind, too.”

That was not what Omka had expected to hear; she looked at Elizabeth sharply, seeking a lie or deception. “One of the first?”

Elizabeth nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, I was number five. The first one, John, went through an experience very much like yours. Fortunately, he was there to help me when my turn came, just like you'll need to be there for the others.”

“And your people let you live? Let any of you live?” Omka sounded flat out disgusted.

The Tomorrow People'd been able to hide and to keep their powers secret, for the most part. Not that that conferred absolute safety. There'd been Colonel Masters, the KGB, the American president. In every case, only the Tomorrow People's ability to work together had saved them. “I won't pretend it was easy.” Elizabeth took a breath and let it out slowly. “We had help, like you're going to have, and because of it, everyone who was there with me in the beginning is still around. I wasn't much older than you when I broke out.” Their actual ages didn't matter. The differences in one planet's orbit around its star versus another's was academic; humanoids the galaxy over—save for the Time Guardians—aged on the same path with the same broad physical, mental, and psychological markers. Omka could look at Elizabeth and see an elder, the same way Elizabeth could look at her and see a youth. Old and new, tradition and revolution.

Omka studied the floor for a long moment, considering. “You'll come with me?” she asked, hesitant, scared … but perhaps not as indoctrinated into her people's ways as any of them had believed.

With a shake of her head, Elizabeth apologized: “Not me. Your world is still closed, which means aliens, anyone from another planet, are not permitted.” Again, not entirely true, but Omka had enough to worry about for now without adding alien visitations to the list, regardless of whether the alien was there to conquer or trade.

“But...”

“I said you'd have help. Just like my people had help.” Elizabeth moistened her lips and allowed a small, nostalgic smile to settle on her face. “Do you know what an _artificial_ intelligence is?”

* * *

Getting Omka oriented took the rest of the day and into the night—terms used metaphorically, of course, in the artificial environment of the Trig; it was a habit Elizabeth had never quite been able to break. She finally extracted herself and gratefully returned to her quarters where she cleaned up for the night and fell into bed.

She awoke the next day to a full message box. The little blue light that indicated a waiting message flashed desperately until she managed to roll out of bed, convinced that there had to be a malfunction. She called up the screen, then stared at the number for a long time, trying to make sense of it. Even if a full-scale argument had bloomed amongst other beings on any of her committees, that still wouldn't account for all the messages sent to her. When living among telepaths, there wasn't much need for electronic messaging. With some trepidation, she started going through them.

“Congratulations!” she read, from the chair of the Kulthan Recovery committee. “Congratulations!” from each of the other sitting members on the Acquisitions committee. Without fail, recorded in the various languages represented on the Trig, worded in various ways, came the same sentiment: Congratulations!

“For what?” she asked out loud.

The computer answered, its synthetic voice calm and even despite the news it delivered: “The Galactic Council has voted to change the status of Earth to an open world.”

“What?!”

The computer did not repeat itself, nor did it need to. Its words echoed through Elizabeth's mind, each iteration adding to the dread that had her pulse pounding in her temples.

She stood, dumbfounded, inside her doorway. For the Earth to qualify as an open world, humanity would have to be majority telepathic. The Federation welcomed in all telepathic species, and did what it could to nurture species that were developing telepathy by isolating them from the other races in the galaxy. There was no way that her planet qualified. 

Using her Ambassador privilege, she requested a comm link to Earth. The computer hummed for a long moment with the effort of processing the power it took to make the connection across so many hundreds of light-years. A section of wall in her room went gray, then slowly started to resolve into a picture. Before the visual even settled into place, Elizabeth was speaking:

“John? John are you there?”

She centered herself on the screen—knowing that the less she moved, the easier it was for the AI and the smoother the transmission would be—despite the urge to pace and twist her hands together.

The picture finally resolved, and Elizabeth's breath fell out of her with a whoosh. The lab was still and dark, dust coating every surface and spider-webs clogging every gap and break between furniture and floor. She could sympathetically smell the mustiness through the artificial air around her. No one had used this place in a very long time. “John?” she asked again, voice choked. She had never seen the lab like this before, knew that _for_ it to be so obviously abandoned, a catastrophe had to have occurred. But, why hadn't Carol said anything?

Another long silence stretched on, and Elizabeth was just about to close the connection when a light came on in the middle of the room, then another. The table that housed TIM's power systems gave a shudder and creaked an inch toward her. A cloud of dust puffed out behind it.

“Elizabeth?” TIM's voice resonated with an old familiarity that twisted her insides with the sudden longing of homesickness. As if he too were flustered and needed a moment to recollect himself, he cleared the throat he didn't have and gave the impression of standing up straighter. “Ambassador. To what do I owe the honor of this call?” The beginning strains of the Federation Anthem drifted from the speakers.

“Oh can it, TIM. It's me.”

The music stopped, and TIM's voice came back lighter as he responded, “Very well.”

Elizabeth swallowed, taking a moment to compose herself. Her gaze ghosted around the empty lab again, seeking any sign of life. “Where's John? Where's...everyone?”

TIM processed the question, his lights transitioning from orange to yellow and back again like a slow lava lamp. “John is at his home. I believe he's having tea now. Andrew is in Scotland attending to the running of his school. Carol, Stephen, Mike, and Kenny no longer live on Earth, so I am not cognizant of their activities. Do you want to know the whereabouts of Tyso and Hsui Tai? I believe both of them are, as the phrase goes, 'off the grid,' so getting their exact locations may take some time.”

“That's OK.” Though she she'd never heard the phrase TIM used before, she could guess what it meant. Everyone had scattered, grown up and moved on to lives that didn't center around this corner of an abandoned underground tunnel. Memories of all of her friends playing Sophostrian chess, bickering over who got to stay and who got to go on any given mission, or discussing whether the latest human fad was actually an alien crisis flickered through her mind. She had to shut her eyes against the tears that threatened. “Where are the new TP? I understand John not wanting to live there anymore, but shouldn't there be a new generation?”

“This lab outlived its usefulness a long time ago, Elizabeth,” TIM responded, sadly. “For awhile The Tomorrow People preferred tropical beaches to musty old underground stations, but now new Tomorrow People are coming into their powers: Dozens, sometimes hundreds per day. It is no longer feasible for Tomorrow People to remain in hiding, nor is it wise.”

“Hundreds? What's the population on Earth now?” She tried to remember what it had been and extrapolate from there. “Four, five billion?” Even hundreds of breakouts a day in no way sounded like it could have any discernible effect on the total population. She remembered Peter the Time Guardian telling them about the Great Breakout of the early 21st century. Was that what was going on on Earth? She had always imagined the Great Breakout as being more like a switch thrown with humanity switching from non-telepathic to telepathic in a matter of days or hours, and with it all the world's conflicts ending in one fell swoop. World peace achieved in one moment of awakening.

“It's rapidly nearing eight billion.”

Elizabeth blanched. In every way, the situation was worse than she could have believed. A population that large would be a serious threat to the planet's sustainability. And it made her calculations even more weak. She couldn't even imagine the devastation either situation would be wreaking on her home world. If any planet needed intervention from the Galactic Federation right now, Earth had to qualify. Yet, it sounded like the Tomorrow People on Earth were pulling away from the Federation and its resources just when they needed them the most. “They just left you behind? Abandoned?”

“No. The technology on Earth has advanced so much over the last two decades that it is no longer necessary for me to be constrained to the chassis that John built for me.” The table rolled to the side with a loud squeal as if to illustrate the point of a structure that had once been a technology marvel and was now merely a cumbersome relic. “I, too, no longer find it wise to stay in hiding. Any place the Tomorrow People are, they have access to my facilities. Hand-held computers are all the rage now and it was easy enough to usurp the primitive AI built into them.”

She tried to picture what he meant, and must have taken too long or made a funny noise because the wall-screen beeped and the image of the desolate lab was replaced with a magazine advert for, what looked like, a smaller version of the screen in her room. Now she only had more questions—which, unfortunately, were going to have to wait.

“Another time, TIM,” she said. Obligingly, he switched the picture back. The lab appeared no different than before, though somehow the more she looked at it, the harder it became to keep looking. “I have just received some distressing news.”

“I am aware.”

Elizabeth allowed a small nod. TIM had a direct line to the Trig; he would have been one of the first to know. Though, that didn't explain why _she_ seemed to be the last to know.

“What do you think about the decision?” Though she tried to keep her tone neutral, she knew TIM would be able to detect all her suppressed worries. More, he could probably tell her everything she _hadn't_ yet worked out she was feeling, and why, if she asked. She wouldn't, and he wouldn't volunteer, yet she still found a shred of comfort in knowing that he could know her so well.

Instead, he replied, “I am an agent of the Galactic Federation: created, built, and maintained by them. It is not for me to agree or disagree with its policies. I will, of course, continue to assist the Tomorrow People on Earth for as long as my programs are operational.”

“Very diplomatic answer, TIM,” Elizabeth replied wryly.

“I thought so.”

The Tomorrow People would not have survived as long as they had, nor gotten as far as they had, without TIM's presence. That was without contest. Would he be enough to help them where they were going, though? That she wasn't sure about. That, and more:

“Then let me ask you this: is Earth ready?”

“I suspect, Ambassador, that you already know the answer to that question.”

“Yes, TIM, I do.” She reached for the button that would end the transmission, and paused before her fingers could exert the pressure. “It was good talking to you again,” she added.

“Indeed it was, Elizabeth. Perhaps you will remember to call home more often.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”

* * *

Elizabeth closed the connection and leaned against the wall for a long time, gathering her thoughts. For Earth to fully enter the Galactic Federation was a mixed blessing. The fulfillment of The Tomorrow People's promise of humanity's transition into being a peaceful race could only be celebrated. However, most Earthlings still labored under the naïve assumption that they were alone in the universe. To destroy that world view at a time when they were already undergoing a radical social upheaval seemed cruel. With no knowledge, no experience, and no way to predict what they were about to get into, Earth was about to discover just how alone they weren't.

Knowing what she had to do, she got ready: a quick breakfast, a face wash, use of the facilities. She slipped on her AE suit and set the controls for the most formal of Council clothing, including the headdress. Then she took a last look around her quarters and left.

She found the Chairbeing in its chambers, as she expected. One of the few species in the Federation whose vitals were wholly incompatible with humanity, ge reminded her most of a human-sized centipede. With pincers on the end of each of its dozens of appendages. She'd had to fight an instinctive fear and revulsion the first time she met ge, one that she had never completely quelled, though she had grown much more practiced at pretending.

If this was how she responded, she wondered, how would Earth's leadership respond the first time a research delegation from the Chairbeing's homeworld showed up? An unbidden shudder ran down her spine. Forcing the concern away, she focused on showing proper regard.

“Honorable Chairbeing.” Elizabeth bowed and waited for ges acknowledgment.

The top rows of pincers retracted and ges body segments clattered as it returned the bow. “What business?” ge asked, in ges usual brusque way. Ges mind rasped against hers like splintered wood, as she knew hers did against ges; they were as alien to the other as was possible and still be able to interact at all. She'd always limited contact with the Chairbeing for this reason, preferring to use the alternate methods of communication the Trig provided rather than subject either of them to this telepathic friction when communication was unavoidable. Today, she did not have that option.

“It has come to my attention that the Council has voted to make Earth an open world.” Elizabeth kept her head up and voice natural, trusting that the suit would provide any body language translations that might be necessary. Even telepathy had its limitations.

“It has.”

“Why was I not informed of this?”

Ge waggled its head. “How do you inquire if you do not know?”

“I mean, why was I the last to find out? I should have been on the committee.” Elizabeth tried not to let her voice rise; the Chairbeing wasn't try to be obtuse and ge wouldn't understand her frustration anyway. Instead, she tucked her hands behind her back, out of sight, and twisted them together.

“You are an Ambassador from Earth?”

“I am.”

“You could not be on the committee. That is against protocol.”

Elizabeth gave a shake of her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. Of all the beings who should be involved in such a crucial decision, the planetary ambassadors struck her as the most obvious. Who else understood the intricacies of a world better than one who had grown up on it? She opened her mouth to ask, only to find that the Chairbeing had either read her thoughts or anticipated the objection.

“The decision must be made by an impartial committee. _You_ are not impartial.”

“I am more than capable of being impartial. I make decisions every day that require impartiality, and neither your nor anyone else on the Council has ever expressed issue with my work.”

“It does not matter. The vote has been taken. The decision is final.”

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that ge was the Chairbeing for a reason, and ge had had more than twice as much experience as an Ambassador as she'd had before ascending through the ranks. “And there's nothing I can do to change your minds?”

“The vote has been taken,” ge informed her, its mental tone serious.

Elizabeth waited for a follow-up comment, some hint of detail about who had voted which way and why. When it became clear that the Chairbeing had nothing more to add, Elizabeth used the only recourse she had left: “Then I resign. I hereby resign my position on all standing committees and request immediate transfer back to Earth.”

The Chairbeing's claws waved furiously. “You cannot!”

“Oh, I'm sure there's a rule for it somewhere.”

“You cannot resign,” ge insisted.

“I left the Trig and returned to Earth before without any problems,” Elizabeth protested. True, that had been more than thirty years before and she'd only _been_ on the Trig for a few months. And she hadn't been the high ranking Ambassador that she was now. All the differences between then and now enumerated themselves starkly in her mind, and she almost regretted even bringing up the counterpoint. The Chairbeing's response took none of that into account, and in fact was disturbingly simple.

“There is no quorum,” ge stated.

Elizabeth looked around the chambers and realized that, indeed, she and the Chairbeing were alone. The other members of the High Council most likely were on their sleep-cycles, though with so many species and so many biological variations, one never knew for sure. She could wait for them to return, could put her request on their agenda, and sit through a formal meeting, but there was no telling how long that might take. Or if they'd vote in her favor. 

Fortunately, there was another way.

“Then I request a leave of absence. I am owed holiday time.” Years of it, if her recollection was accurate. “Approval for use of holiday time is at the discretion of the Chairbeing alone.” For as little as she'd ever paid attention to that particular body of rules, it was amazing how quickly she'd recalled them.

The claws slowed in their waving, the Chairbeing somewhat mollified at her willingness to stay within the prescribed way of doing things. Ge must have checked with the computer on her actual status because each of ges four multi-faceted eyes glimmered like it was focused elsewhere, and then the ge agreed, “Yes. I can see that.”

Elizabeth relaxed fractionally. “Let me be the Ambassador _to_ Earth. If its going to become a successful entrant into the Federation, the people need a mentor. A...” She reached for the word that she'd long ago stopped applying to herself, yet had never ceased being applicable--“teacher.”

The Chairbeing stilled, even its mandibles ceasing their movement while ge considered her request. Elizabeth's AE suit protected her from the most incompatible parts of the Chairbeing's environment, but it still allowed her to observe them, if she wanted. While the Chairbeing thought, Elizabeth watched the eddies of gasses through the room—each of them a deadly poison to a human and a vital substance to the Chairbeing. So many differences between them, and at the most basic levels. Would it be able to understand what she needed, especially when she wasn't sure she understood it herself?

Yet some concerns appeared to be truly universal. With another clatter of body-segments ge gave ges equivalent of a nod. “Your request is approved. Holiday leave shall begin immediately. An interim ambassador will be assigned to hold your place on all relevant committees.”

Elizabeth let out her withheld breath, and bowed again. “Thank you, Chairbeing.” It took only a couple minutes to establish the details of her leave. At last, she turned to go. She had a long-distance teleport to arrange, and that was the easy part. Once she got back to Earth, she had a whole world of knowledge to update herself on and a million new details to sort through. Where was a person supposed to begin? Before the question finished forming, she knew her answer: She was an Ambassador, an Earthling, and a Tomorrow Person. She was also British, and everything worth doing started with a good cup of tea.


End file.
